Setting the World on Fire: The Kiss
by BrynnaRaven
Summary: Nathaniel/Cora. Detailed one-shot of events preceding & including The Kiss. Nothing is certain anymore at Fort William Henry. The future hangs tenuously as Nathaniel and Cora both reflect upon their interaction up to now. Both acknowledge and finally surrender to the fiery passion between them. They do not know what is to come, but things will never be the same for either of them.


Nathaniel strode across the fort yard weaving through the occupants, his flintlock rifle "Killdeer" in his hand. He was lost in thought, though not about anything that he should be – not the courier, not the argument with Colonel Munro, and not Jack and the other men, who even at this moment readied themselves to risk their lives and leave William Henry. No, it was none of these things – only Cora Munro. He had sorely misjudged her more than once in the past few days. At first she had seemed little more than typical English gentry, snobbish with no mind of her own and not a clue what she and her sister had gotten themselves into. And while the last might be true and no fault of her own, he had been wrong in the first two assessments. She had quite a sharp wit about her, in fact. He recalled his shock back at the glade when she had pulled a dead soldier's pistol from her dress pocket, ready to defend herself – it had made an odd pleasure seep through him to see such courage in a clearly gently bred woman who was very much out of her element. Suddenly he had begun to see her in a different light. At her later confession of the frontier being so unexpectedly endeared to her, something had awoken within him in the dark. "Deeply stirring to my blood", she had said, and it stirred his blood to hear her say it.

On their arrival at the fort, rather than succumb to exhaustion and rest as her sister did, she had gone straight to work in the surgery tending the wounded and dying, starting by sewing up Uncas's side – not work for the faint of heart, and it was impressive to hear from the surgeon that she had been assisting him for years. "I have seen the face of war before," she had told him at the Camerons', but he'd had no idea what she meant then. She was not at all what she had appeared, and it floored him. He had teased her and Uncas lightheartedly, but secretly he'd had an irrational wish for it to be him she tended to instead of his brother. And that moment before he'd left…he could not shake it from himself. He had turned back and looked at her, and something in him had shifted irrevocably as he gazed at her for much longer than he'd intended. The dim lamplight had cast upon the smooth side of her neck where tendrils of her dark brown hair escaped and curled against it. It drew his gaze to the shadow of her clavicle, her throat, the soft jaw and defiant chin, and the lush fullness of her lips, which he had suddenly had a burning and highly inappropriate desire to kiss. Then she had looked up, her eyes meeting his, and asked softly "What are you looking at, sir?" and without hesitation he had answered, "Well, I'm looking at you, miss."

And he was, for as he fell into her dark eyes, glittering in the lamplight, it seemed all that she was had been laid before him, all that he had missed in his first judgment of her, and all that he had come to see in this short time. Her iron-clad composure. Her undeniable courage and flashing intelligence. Her compassion. Her innate ability to see this frontier for everything that it was, both good and bad, and appreciate it in its entirety despite its immediate cruelty to her. All of this made her enthralling coupled with the softness of her in that moment, as he looked at _her_ , and heard the nearly undetectable quickening of her breath. He had never met anyone like her, and he wanted her with a sudden and all-consuming fire. He thought he saw a glimmer of that in her eyes as well, suspected even more when her gaze had faltered and come back with a shy hint of a smile on those kissable lips, but the task at hand had called him off and he had simply smiled back at her and taken his leave. Now all was done, and he found himself crossing the crowded parade ground toward the hospital in search of his reason for staying. A fiddler played by the fire, a few couples dancing, trying to forget the danger at hand just for this evening. Nathaniel wanted to forget too.

* * *

Cora bent over her expired patient and closed his unseeing eyes. She sighed wearily and looked around the hospital, full of pain and suffering she and the others could do little to alleviate. Her mind wandered back to the earlier encounter with Nathaniel, after she had sutured and dressed his brother's wound. She had inwardly rolled her eyes at his teasing, but for just a fleeting second she thought she'd also detected just a hint of…jealousy? It had puzzled her, but she'd dropped the thought until she felt her uneasiness grow as he had turned back in the doorway. She could feel those arresting green eyes on her even though she did not look at first, and she'd felt her pulse kick up and a flush of heat prickle her cheeks. She'd begun to feel this oddness in the glade when she'd lain beside him as he told the story of the sun and moon, and it intensified now. When she had looked up to the proof of his eyes upon her, she had not known what to make of what she saw there, or his candid response to her question: "Well, I'm looking at you, miss." Something burning and fierce and primitive was suddenly between them, and her breath quickened as her heartbeat did, caught off her guard with the sense that he was indeed looking at her – right into her. Like there was nothing else in the world but her. No one had ever looked at her that way, and she had never felt so upended by a man before.

This seemed to be what was always missing with Duncan, what she had wanted to feel but did not. She felt it with this man. This quiet, serious, puzzling and brutally honest man, neither native or truly white, who was so unlike anyone she had ever encountered in her lifetime. He had run headlong into her existence, and suddenly everything she knew was challenged as she began to see that his world was so completely different from hers, so raw and unpredictable, and yet utterly beautiful. She was captivated by it, and by him. He truly saw her, even a part of her she hid from the rest of the world; and if she was not mistaken in her innocence, he wanted her. Heat pooled in her belly and spread as he'd boldly looked her up and down with that flash of desire in his eyes. What would it feel like if he kissed her? What would his hands feel like on her body? She'd briefly broken the gaze, shocked by her improper thoughts, and then looked back at him as a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips at his forthright statement. He had smiled back – she'd had yet to see him smile with all that had happened – a glorious smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made him beautiful, vanishing the dangerous, unspoken thing before the merriment now there. Then he had turned and left. She had not seen him again until she had heard the argument in her father's office and his refusal to allow the militia to leave after Duncan had lied about what he saw at the Camerons', but Nathaniel had not seen her at the door. That exchange had left her feeling angry and helpless on behalf of the settlers and disgusted with Duncan and, in part, her father for his lack of compassion and refusal to listen to reason. Now she was more than glad she'd turned down Duncan's proposal.

Cora sighed heavily, coming back to the moment at hand. She could hear a fiddler playing outside, and she longed for a breath of air that didn't smell of blood and burnt flesh and death. She rose and stepped outside, walking toward the sound of the music. As she rounded the corridor outside the doorway and stepped into the yard toward the fire, she saw the tall, lean form of Nathaniel approaching from the opposite direction, the ever-present long rifle in hand. He did not see her right away, and she took the opportunity to drink in the welcome sight of him after so many brutal hours in the surgery. He was like a benediction in this frightening, uncertain place. The firelight glowed against his long dark hair, his chiseled profile stark in the shadows and his firm mouth set in a determined line. His loose shirt was slightly open, the tanned skin of his chest visible under the wampum belt that crossed it and held his powder horn. He was so oddly glorious to look upon, and everything about him thrilled her to the core. Her breath hitched as he turned his head, finally seeing her there, and continued in her direction with that intense, primal heat once again rising in his eyes.

* * *

Cora appeared before Nathaniel as if summoned from the air. Her presence in the firelight transformed the darkness to gold, her thick hair half down and tumbling over her back and shoulders, her weary eyes reflecting the orange glint of the fire and…something else as she returned his gaze. He stopped for just a moment to revel in the sight of her and she closed the distance, pausing just inches away. Her breath quickened, evidenced by the increased rise and fall of the creamy expanse of her chest above the neckline of her dress. She lifted her chin and looked up at him with an expression of relief, and a weight seemed to lift from her, replaced by a kindling of the same stark flame of desire that he felt burning in himself. She showed no fear or hesitation, but her lower lip trembled just the tiniest bit. It shattered any sensible reserve he might have had left to consider that she was the daughter of the fort's commanding officer, that this feeling between them was forbidden and dangerous and to act upon it even more so - especially now that he was technically guilty of sedition. He didn't give a damn, and by the look in her eyes neither did she. All he wanted right now was standing before him, and all else seemed to fall away as the palpable emotion between them reached its boiling point. Heart pounding, he reached for her hand, his strong fingers sliding between hers, and tugged gently as he turned and led her away.

Cora followed without objection, her whole body thrumming with anticipation of something, though she knew not what. Her legs felt weak with it as he pulled her along behind him, leading her up onto the platform of the unmanned bastion by the surgery. There he drew her behind the cover of the timber wall and out of sight, setting the rifle aside. She faced him and he looked down at her in charged silence, his hands holding her sides. With a shaky intake of breath, she slid her hands forward, across his wrists and over his strong, wiry forearms where the skin bore linear tattoos. She curled her fingers against the bare skin there, feeling the crisp hair, muscle and sinew, and she met his gaze. His hands came to her shoulders, and she could feel the heat of them through the thin linen of her shift as he ran them downward and up again, his eyes never leaving hers as he drew her closer with aching slowness. Her lips parted as she drew in a tiny gasp at the blooming desire his touch produced in her, and at the deliciously predatory intent she saw in his eyes. Thumbs absently stroking where his hands lay, he dipped his head and captured her lips with his own. Flames ignited within her and began to spread, wild and unchecked. This was no chaste English gentleman's kiss, but a feral and hungry claim that overwhelmed her with the desire to match and answer. One hand resting at his waist, her other arm slid up around his neck to hold him tightly as his arms came around her in a crushing embrace. His lips moved against hers with urgency, his tongue caressing, coaxing them to part, sweeping into her mouth. Unabashedly, instinct and desire taking over, she darted her own forward to meet it stroke for stroke, her hands roaming over his shoulders, reveling in the feel of his strong, hard body against hers as his fingers threaded into her hair and grasped it at the nape of her neck.

Nathaniel broke contact for just a moment, his breathing ragged. Looking down at Cora, her brown eyes now blazing with the same longing he felt, his hands smoothed over her face and her soft waving hair. Her breath came in short gasps as he took her lips again in brief, hot kisses. She returned them, one hand coming up to cover his in her hair, twining with his fingers and then sliding feverishly back around his shoulders and into his hair. Her face pressed against his neck, her lips touching the skin there and on the underside of his jaw, driving him to a fever pitch. He lifted her up and set her on the narrow shelf running along the bastion wall so she was level with him. Standing between her thighs, he ran his hands down her sides and splayed them over the fabric of her bodice. Inhibition nowhere to be found, her hands plunged into his hair again as she kissed his brow, his eyes, nose, along his jawline, and nipped at his lower lip, breathing in the heady scent of him – sweat, leather, gunpowder, earth. She retreated slightly, trembling, her breath releasing in a sob as he brought her back into his arms. They clung to each other desperately, overcome by this explosive thing they both felt, utterly lost to each other.

She drew back and stroked her fingers along his face and hair, her eyes full of heat and wonder, and once again returned to her adoring ministrations to his face and lips. She buried her face against his collarbone as he did the same to her, and she felt the rough beads of the wampum belt against her cheek as she nuzzled and dared to kiss the exposed skin of his chest above it, her arms wrapped around him as if she could never let go. He kissed the tender, sensitive flesh beneath her ear, his rough chin deliciously scraping her throat as her head tilted back and he traced the line of her jaw with his lips, teeth and tongue. She shuddered and gasped again when his mouth continued downward, blazing a trail to the tops of her breasts above her bodice. Never in her life had she even thought of allowing a man to take such liberties, but God help her, she had never felt this way and she didn't want him to stop. She wanted him. _Needed_ him. He held her in place with his hips, his hands spreading on her thighs and then sliding forward to cup her backside to pull her flush against him. She could feel the bold hardness of his arousal against her even through the layers of fabric that separated them, and a feeling like molten liquid spread through her groin and belly as his lips and tongue continued to trail caresses over the flesh at the low neckline of her bodice. Her hands flattened against the taut muscles of his upper back and dug into his hair again. God, she loved his hair, falling carelessly over his shoulders, brushing her sensitized skin as his teeth nipped at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. A small cry of pleasure escaped her, and a shiver rocked her body against him as his tongue gently laved the spot. She dipped her head and returned the gesture.

Nathaniel made a quiet sound halfway between a groan and a growl and claimed her mouth again, his tongue thrusting against hers. She felt so damned good, all soft curves melting into him, her lips swollen and her eyes bright in the moonlight. Her innocent passion was intoxicating, every little gasp driving him to the edge, her lips on his skin undoing him one touch at a time. He had never felt anything like this, and he wanted nothing more at this moment than to forget the world around them and bury himself in her. He felt her hands molded to his sides, sliding down his ribcage, finding the hem of his shirt bunched up over her skirt where her leg wrapped around his. Her fingers slipped beneath it to find skin, tentatively trailing over the lean muscle of his abdomen. His hands tensed on her thighs as she continued to explore, finding the open side of his breechclout and splaying her hand over his bare hip, her thumb gently stroking the divot at the iliac crest. He nearly lost all control. Too close. With a sharp intake of breath, he broke their kiss and stayed her hand gently with his.

"Nathaniel?" she breathed, her eyes questioning.

"Cora….you must stop. _I_ must. We can't." He set her down from her perch, her body sliding torturously along his, but he was unwilling to back away from her just yet. He lifted a hand to cup her jaw, his fingers twining in her hair.

"I don't want to stop," she whispered, rising onto her toes, loving the fire she saw in his stormy ocean-hued eyes as she leaned up to kiss him, running her tongue across his lower lip as she did. He groaned and kissed her back briefly, then tucked her head against his shoulder, resting his chin on her hair as his arms came around her and held her. He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling in his chest beneath her ear.

"What we want and what we must do are not the same," he said gently. "What I want to do to you…but now is not the time or the place to continue this, as much as it pains me to say so. You deserve better than a dark corner, and I aim to do better by you." She gazed up at him in earnest.

"You are right, I know, but oh, Nathaniel, I have never in my life...what you make me feel, I...I confess this is all very new to me, and quite a shock, but…it feels right to me in a way nothing ever has." Her fingers trailed down his cheek, and he reached up to grasp her hand, kissing the palm reverently.

"I would have to confess the same," he replied, "and I'll say the last few days in and of themselves have been a shock to you. But what's between us remains a reality, and I regret that the circumstances don't afford either of us the ability to make or keep promises." He kissed her head and rested his cheek on her hair, closing his eyes. Everything had changed so quickly, and she made him want things he'd never even thought about before now. He knew that staying here meant he would likely be arrested and hanged for helping Jack and the other militia men leave, but he could not bear to tell her that now.

"Everything is uncertain now, and I do not know what to hope for," Cora said, "but we have this moment. Let us just exist together right now, and if all else is lost then we have had this. Stay here with me a while." Inwardly, she knew the impossibility of all of this, especially with the struggle between Nathaniel and her father regarding the militia and their families. She knew Nathaniel would not stand idly by and just accept her father's final word. What would come of all of it? Of this? She looked up at him, the moon and stars reflected in her eyes. He kissed her lips tenderly and nodded in assent.

They stayed on the rampart in silence together for some time, gazing at the night sky. She leaned back against his chest with one of his arms around her shoulders and the other around her waist. Her fingers absently grazed his forearm. Eventually weariness began to overtake Cora and her eyes drifted closed. Nathaniel gently squeezed her shoulder, his arm still lying across her chest.

"You're exhausted, _aholkwësit_. You need to sleep while you can." She turned to him and he lifted his hand, his thumb stroking the delicate skin beneath her eye where there were faint blue shadows. She leaned her cheek into his palm and closed her eyes, loving the roughness against her smooth skin.

"We both do," she replied, "you must be tired as well."

"Aye, but I'm more used to it than you are. Still, we should both seek rest before the French army rouses and resumes the assault in full force." He reluctantly let her go and turned to take up Killdeer. They descended back onto the ground, still concealed in the umbra of the fort wall. "We should part here," he whispered. She nodded and circled her arms about his neck, her hands caressing his hair one last time. He lowered his head, catching her lips in a brief, fiery kiss.

"Good night, Nathaniel," she sighed, eyes half closed.

"Good night, Cora." He held her in a fierce embrace for just a moment, then they each turned and went their own way, she to sleep with Alice and he to find his father and Uncas. Neither knew what the world would hold for them once the sun rose.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 _Aholkwësit_ is a Delaware (Lenape) word that means "beloved one."

Thank you for reading. This is my first fanfiction story, and the first story I've written in a very long time, so I really enjoyed doing this. _The Last of the Mohicans_ is one of my favorite films, and I have also enjoyed reading _The Leatherstocking Tales_ by James Fenimore Cooper, of which _The Last of the Mohicans_ is the second book. There are some major differences between the film and the book, but both are great in their own right. I prefer the romantic pairings in the film, and I absolutely love Nathaniel and Cora, individually and together. In the film both their characters and the actors who brought them to life have so much great chemistry, and it is particularly evident in the kiss scene, which is to date probably my favorite romantic scene in a film. In the time leading up to that, you really get a sense of what might have been going through their heads as their unexpected attraction to each other catches them both a bit off guard, and I wanted to put that into words, as well as the kiss, and to fill in the gap afterward. I will be following this story with a multichapter one that picks up where the film left off. I hope you've enjoyed this one-shot!


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